"And I had done a hellish thing, And it would work 'em woe: For all averred, I had killed the bird, That made the breeze to blow."
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
The map beneath him, cracked and yellowed, was one of the few he owned that was of old Panem. Dating would place it before the war, before the uprising; according to analysis, not so long after the Great Crisis itself. It was, were he to give it a semantic meaning, a beacon of monumental change in ancient history, hundreds of years old. He stood there observing it where it sat beneath protective glass, one finger trailing across the surface.
He left prints on the glass, but did not clean them. They rested above the Capitol.
The Great Crisis had shaped the country- quite literally, and quite devastatingly. The map had been produced before mass production had been given a chance to resurge in the country, and as such it was roughly made, poor quality paper and no colouration attempted on its surface. Nevertheless, it had a beauty about it- the hand-drawn surface layered geographical and physical landmarks with mechanical precision. The map itself covered an odd approximation of landmarks, as if it had been traced initially and then corrected long after. The image of the country it showed was far different to the country he knew now- the Great Crisis had shaped it drastically, as could be seen in the manner so much of the landmasses had been erased after redrawing the lines. A line cut between some parts of Panem- in soft pencil markings on the edge someone had written "US" on one side and "Canada" on the other. Ancient countries, long since lost in history and crisis. New countries risen, new cities from the ashes of old.
The map was only a hundred and fifty years old and yet it harkened back to an age nobody was left to tell of. He tilted his head down to the map in careful respect to his forebears. What they saw, what they lived through- even from the vague and confused history they had left to them, he knew what they had been through was devastating. And yet- and yet. They stood up. They rebuilt. They recreated.
It was admirable.
"President Snow?"
He straightened, dropped his hand from the map as an aide stepped blinking into the gloom of the hall. "You are wanted on set in five minutes."
"Tell them I will be on set now."
The aide inclined his head in respect and withdrew. Snow gave a final sweeping glance to the neatly arranged artefacts in the hall. He spared a glance towards a small device in the center of the floorspace, scorched metal twisting in the clinical spotlights above it.
President Snow was not the type to feel fear. But the metal device, on its small plinth; that could incite fear. Not in him, never him, but he had seen too much not to understand what it meant, for him and by extension others.
He left the room without sparing a further look towards the artefacts within it. Looking back kept you in perpetual introspection, and he was not one for introspection when his country required more overt leadership.
He made his way to the set, which by his command was clean and soberly dressed; the antithesis of what the Capitol typically enjoyed in a city of excess, but Snow did not always bow to their demands when it did not suit. Tonight he addressed Panem as a whole and it was of imperative importance the appearance he put forward was of power and not opulent politicism. He was a leader and he would appear as one.
Tracks were set up in crossing patterns over the floor of the set, and multiple cameras were being set up to move in automatically, programmed to zoom and pan as Snow moved. He stood there in silence, waiting for the room to center to him and its inhabitants to follow suit. The room remained buzzing and busy momentarily, but an aide made a quick motion to the team and silence fell like fog on flames. Cameras tilted and panned to him with automatic precision.
"Well." He began to walk across the room, short and purposeful strides, taking satisfaction in the way he was the focal point of the gaze of the room; the fulcrum they all turned upon. He sat on the white-painted chair in the center of the white-painted set, and imperceptibly shifted for the pleasure of watching every camera refocus at his unspoken command.
"Shall we begin?"
A small LCD screen counted down from five. The camera team quietly set themselves up behind control panels and monitors and readied themselves. Snow remained still, aware he was in the correct position.
The numbers came to zero and a small red light flickered on each of the cameras. Orchestral music filtered from a monitor- Snow could make out from it the projected seal of Panem fading to his face. He inclined his head and began.
"Good evening, citizens of Panem. It is my personal duty and pleasure to announce to you all the seventy-sixth annual Hunger Games."
Hello all, and welcome to my own little attempt at an SYOT. Now, I know there's typically two issues to a story of this genre; the matter of too many characters becoming an issue to portray equally without boring all other readers, and the matter of an SYOT's nature making it impossible to create a plot beyond its most simplistic nature.
I've endeavoured to fix that.
I've already created a plot; while flexible in nature, it's ready for putting in place. And while there will be 24 tributes, I'll be self-generating most and killing them off. I'll be writing the most I believe I can write and you can read comfortably; as such, I'll be taking eight characters in total. These eight characters will be six tributes and two Capitolians. Feel free to submit as many tributes you wish, of any district; similarly, if you wish to have your Capitolian have a job, a senior position, or just a typical socialite, that's your choice. I'll pick those I think are the best characters, and then they'll be inserted into the plot as they best fit.
May the odds be ever in your favour, future character creators. I'll try to treat them well. But a word to the wise- this may not spin out as is expected of SYOTs. In what is to come, your character may need something different from the typical to survive.
Good luck.
SUBMISSION FORMS
TRIBUTE SUBMISSION FORM
(NOTE: Please submit through PM. Guest review submissions are tolerated but may not be seen as easily and thus are less likely to be chosen)
Full Name:
Age:
District Preferences(First choice is taken into account but the others are in case of the unlikely event that district has already been chosen):
Gender:
Appearance(Please be detailed):
Family Members:
Backstory:
Personality(The more detailed the better):
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Why would this tribute win the Hunger Games:
Why would this tribute die in the Hunger Games:
Is this tribute likely to make alliances? And with what kind of person/people?:
Would you be open to having your tribute in a relationship:
What is the tribute's opinion of the Capitol?:
CAPITOLIAN SUBMISSION FORM
(NOTE: Please submit through PM. Guest review submissions are tolerated but may not be seen as easily and thus are less likely to be chosen)
Full Name(Please note that Greek and Roman-oriented names are more likely to
found in the Capitol):
Age:
Gender:
Occupation:
Personality(Please be detailed):
Appearance(Please be detailed, and feel free to go wild on this- Capitolians are extravagant to say the least):
Their opinion of Hunger Games and Districts: